OF ALL TIME

Have I mentioned on here that I was the worst co-leader of a women's Bible study of all time last semester? Well, now I'm letting you know. The word "worst" here is not a reflection of the quality of my "leadership" or whatever during the actual study. It's in reference to being a co-leader... or not being one rather, alongside the best co-leader, Ashley Peterson. If you've read much of my blog from this past semester, you know I went through some pretty basic spiritual crazies. Self-inflicted, no doubt. It was ridiculous, and it made for a flaky semester as a Bible study leader as you may or may not imagine. Sometimes I just wouldn't go. Sometimes I'd go but not really talk. Once I went and forced my thoughts on people. It was weird. But it brought me to a few days ago when I hadn't even opened my Bible to Hebrews, the book we're studying, let alone opened my thoughts to it. Then, not so out of the blue, I got a text from Peterso asking my thoughts on what to do for Bible study next semester. No thoughts. No prayers. No nothing.

And this brought me to a few minutes ago on the phone with Peterso. My thoughts and prayers have been on the Bible study since her text, but my thoughts continue to be uneasy. And a minor scheduling conflict gave me just a bit more confirmation to know that I really need to step down. For this semester at least. And though I feel like I've pulled the ultimate flake-out and am the ultimate quitter, I do know SO well that it simply is not about me. I most definitely have needs, but I am most most definitely NOT needed. And I firmly believe this chick will be a great leader with or without me, and as she told me, she has been prepared to lead this on her own ever since she thought I wouldn't be returning to school for this past semester. So, Peterso, if you're reading this, thank you for being such a strong leader all semester, and thanks especially for putting up with my weakness. Who you were was who I needed as a co-leader through all of this, and I love you. :-* (Yeah, I just pulled the awkward off-center kiss emoticon out on you.)

So now I'm kind of all "que sera sera" about next semester. All I know is that I need to be a for real student who does homework and studies finally, which may require more library time. I also know that I'll be back to working the mail room and copy center jobs I love for 9.5 hours a week, and I'm ecstatic about that. AND I've got one of my best friends not only back at school after studying abroad last semester but also residing in my apartment with my absolutely fabulous roommate and me. Oh, and I've got an awesome God I've flaked out on entirely too much, who is deserving of all my efforts and attention and who has been humbling me in all the right ways these past few days, so I'm just a be throwin' my "que sera sera"s all up in his business now. I'm sure you'll be reading soon enough how that works out.

More on Joey

Here's an article that actually portrays Joey as a real person.

I'm not sure how the Bells are doing currently, but they've been floating around in my thoughts since the Joey incident. A couple of weeks ago, I was hanging out with Carrie next door and she was going on about having girls nights, going to the movies, and all kinds of fun things that she wanted to do when Deb finally showed up. Needless to say, none of that has happened. Well, they have been happening but without her. She's been with her family probably trying to figure out how to be a rock for her grieving husband... during a time that her marriage was pretty severely suffering already. No one really prepares you for these things, but God never throws anything at us that absolutely cannot be withstood.

The Real McCoy

This Christmas was pretty perfect, and I would have to say that had a lot to do with the presence (or presents?) of the Martins. You know there's just something about having the whole family dynamic that makes everything feel complete. It's not often we can all be together and just... be. We closed out the night just chillin' and talking in the living room while my mother was about to pass out from exhaustion as she waited for Amanda to finish her movie so that she could put her to bed. Chillin' and talking is my favorite thing ever. Ever. It's so hard to pull out of it, because it really is just sort of happening because it's happening... and then you realize it's happening because it's so necessary. All parties in such a conversation find common ground and run with it, and it feels so right.

At one point in our conversation, we got to talking about love languages. As usual, it was pointed out by someone that mine is most definitely physical touch. This always brings me back to the day that strange woman came to 5Alive and covered all 5 love languages. Once she said "physical touch," all eyes were on me. Now, that was pretty funny, but ever since then I've thought how strange it was that I am the only one whose love can be straight up identified that way.

Obviously, I experience love outside of physical touch. I would be a lonely soul otherwise... or I would have resigned myself to prostitution straight out of high school (Too far?). So I got to thinking about the other languages, and I can see where I've learned how to love people in different ways and do. This brought me to the flip side. How do I receive love? See, I've told some that even though I am classified under physical touch, I most often like to initiate the hug or cuddle or whatever. I sometimes have a hard time receiving it. And then I got to thinking about how bad I am at receiving gifts... and how bad I am at receiving words of affirmation... and my general lack of enthusiasm in gratitude that has plagued me since being classified as an "ungrateful child" long ago.

(These were the thoughts that were in my mind before I rolled out of bed and decided to come down here and start typing all of this out.)

My immediate reaction to this sudden connection of pieces was: "Oh, another realization of just how extremely selfish I am." Upon further inspection I realized a deeper root to this issue, a root that could quite possibly be familial, is that I always want everything to be right, true, and genuine.

Not such a bad desire, huh? After all, shouldn't things of life be right, true, and genuine? Yeah, I'd say so. But one truth that keeps laughing in my face is the relativity hidden within these staunch terms. I have a hard time receiving gifts. Why? Probably because of the social conventions marked by gift-giving. Once my mind decides something is conventional, it gets tossed into an ingenuine category. Appreciation is lost. Why can't I accept words of affirmation? Probably because I can't know whether it's really what is right that is being affirmed. Does that make sense? Kinda?

What I'm getting at is that my natural tendency is to decide whether I see something as real or a pursuit of what's real and reject whatever I deem not in these ranks. Feign enthusiasm when enthusiasm is not a real emotion for me at the time. Offer an awkward thanks when I don't really know how to react to what you said. So what am I saying about the person who was genuinely excited about giving me that gift or about the person who identifies something in me that he or she firmly believes should be affirmed?

......

.............

Boo, Katie Jones. Boo.

Enough of that. Carrie called this morning to tell us that the long search for Chris's brother's body had been stopped. I'm sure Chris is over there, "feigning" the joy and excitement of Christmas with his three darling children, but that's okay. Because he really truly does love them. Because there really is nothing fake about love, no matter how you want to categorize it.

Joy and Misery, Misery and Joy

My precious baby nephew arrived this afternoon as planned, and I've enjoyed a wonderful day spending time with Deb and Jared whilst cuddling with Leo. He is unbelievably adorable in person, but I figured as much.

However, the joy of their arrival was quickly quelled by two unexpected visitors. My cousin Carrie Bell lives next door, and her husband Chris has two brothers. I met one of them last Christmas, I think, and he and his girlfriend were the two unexpected visitors who came up and knocked on our back door. Chris's brother came in frazzled, asking where Chris was. My mother explained about Chris's father being in town (they have different fathers) and Chris probably being at a hotel in Gloucester. So after phonebook searching and various hotel trying, he managed to get in touch with Chris... to tell him that he thought their third brother was dead.

You can read about it here.

As you can imagine, the lot next door to me is having a tough time right now, so I'm writing this post just to simply ask for your prayers for the Bell family. Christmastime will always bring back the memories of this day for them, draining Christmas of its fully intended amount of cheer. But Jesus, of course, is the same Savior he was before. Pray that Chris can keep a firm grasp on that key truth as he mourns.

...and so, yes, loves Leo. Pray for that little guy, too. :D

Thanks for the prayers, and Merry Christmas!

newsy things kinda but not really

Victoria's Secret discontinued my favvy-fav unda-pants! Unnecessary!

In other news, I may be getting sick. So that's fun.

Is this all sounding too depressing?

Well, I get to see this face

very soon. Very soon meaning in approximately 5 days. NOT depressing... unless I get the baby sick. :-/

In God news, I just remembered conversations I used to have with Melissa Bjorklund where we'd talk about how annoyed we get by free will. The cycles of stupidity and all that result from the freedom of our wills. And so I was just reading Psalm 54 (since you read the Psalms when you're feeling under the weather, duh). Verse 6 caught my eye.

"With a freewill offering, I will sacrifice to you; I will give thanks to your name, O Lord, for it is good."

Good indeed. I suppose I insinuated a subsequent personal exposition on the verse, but I am too tired. Bedtime.

How My Faith Is Going

I woke up to a message from Amanda Keller (hi, Amanda) asking me how my faith is going. I've opted to respond to her on here since it's probably a thing worth blogging about. To begin with, it's a thing worth thinking about, which I admit I haven't been doing so much recently.

And I'm not sure where to go from there. I just went back and read all of my blog posts from the beginning, which didn't take all that long since there really aren't that many. However, it did leave me pretty confused as to how to answer such a question as "How is your faith going?" I'm not bashing the question; it's valid. But looking at faith requires a particular perspective. I could look back on my blog posts and formulate a big picture of what God is doing with my life, or I could recognize each of my highs and lows for what they are, placing my current stance into one or both of these categories or somewhere inbetween.

Going home usually involves me leaving my personal obligations to prayer and Bible-reading at the front door, which is just weird. What's beyond weird and just plain not right about this trend is that it suggests my peaceful, non-thinking time at home is only peaceful and non-thinking when I ignore my relationship with God. Please raise one confused eyebrow at that one, folks. It's like I really am pinning all the blame of my frustrations and pain in constantly searching and seeking on God. This also reminds me of the time Katie Titus and I were hanging out during my "darker days" and she asked me if I'd been reading my Bible. I said that I had been reading it a lot and I was really earnestly wanting to, because I was, in fact, searching and seeking. This brings me to another question: Should I really only reserve searching and seeking for my own personal times of despair? Do these two words have to be so connotatively full of muddled desperation for me? Well, shouldn't be. I know that much. What I don't know is how to catch these "inconsequential" life patterns I have before they seep through the cracks and prove their consequence. Living for God could be looked at as a game of catch-up, and that's my default mode of seeking--I can't understand God but I have to try, dagnabbit. It sounds so desperate.

Why can't I take this time at home to enjoy God for being God? Elephino! (hi, Sadie)

Perhaps I'll take a crack at that.
Sheesh.

All I Want For Christmas

Is it weird that the only thing I've *wanted* for the past few Christmases is more Victoria's Secret underwear? My girl Tori provides the goods for all Sir Mix-A-Lot's laydayzzzz!

Small Town Charm

Earlier this evening, my mother and I were walking down our lane when mom said, "This is what's nice about living in a small town--having a parade be so accessible. If we lived in a big city, I wouldn't even try to watch the parade." I responded in agreement... until we actually reached our destination for viewing the annual Mathews Christmas parade and were greeted by the opening theme banner, displaying the words: "Farming on the Bay". So yeah... apparently farming on the bay means some random 17-year-old's Cadillac with a red bow on it, a huge truck that looks like a toilet, and random middle-aged men and women (since that's the prevailing age of a Mathewser) walking by giving you candy--to which my mother referred when she turned to Rebecca and me and said, "If we just grabbed a bag of candy, we could march in this parade..." (Also, my mother is a 5-year-old when it comes to getting tossed candy at a parade.) It's true there are a lot of charming things about small towns, and Gilmore Girls displays several of them pretty well. Fortunately, all things that are meant to be charming but fail epically simply result in me ROFLMAO. Welcome home, me. :)

As claimed in my Thanksgiving post, I really do love soaking up these final lingering moments on campus. They do possess those special qualities I spelled out before, and I can't help but think about how much I'm going to miss these moments as well as the beginning moments of August and the in-between moments of everything else. If I was honest with myself, though, I'd look back and remember the pain I felt throughout most of October and part of November in having such a drastic and willful separation from worshiping and living for God. Maybe I wouldn't miss it all so much if I relived that tight feeling in my gut of not knowing what my life was for. Maybe... except for all the other Good that came during that experience and out of that experience. I wouldn't necessarily say this is me desperately scraping for an optimistic thread of thought. And while my ever-positive roommate Sadie Smith has definitely injected some of her bright-side serum into me, I've also come to realize a lot of the "honest" and "realistic" thoughts I used to compose my words before weren't quite as honest or real as I thought they were. If I want to be real, if I want to be honest, I have to see the Good all the time. Call that plain optimism if you want, but I'm gonna call it living with a purpose beyond worth. As for missing all of this, I will. I have a lot to look forward to in the coming month, but I really can't get over the blessing it has been to be here for the past few months when I didn't think I would be. To see the ways my friends have grown and learned, to grow and learn with them. To fight my resistance in order to finally call Jesus Christ my Savior with the most genuine warmth and knowledge inside. Thankfully, I shouldn't ever have to miss that.

...To the Life!

I remember one day when I was working at camp during the summer of 2008, I was talking to a fellow college kid on staff, Geraud, about school and careers and whatnot. He told me all about his potential avenues of work and other general things he was interested in pursuing on the side. As these conversations tend to go, he flipped the question around and asked me what I wanted to do after college. Whether he liked it or not, he also flipped the switch that turned my mouth on auto-pilot. "I don't know." Now saying, "I don't know," may seem like a cop-out to thinking about it, but Lord knows I have no problems in that area. "I don't know" is a genuine answer to the question of what I want to do after college. I really don't know what I want, which I have pretty well established on this here blog. Sometimes I perceive I'm growing increasingly aware of what I need. Not just after college, but right now. Obviously the need I've been continually falling on my face before is Jesus, and blogging is making me ever-aware of how frequently this is happening to me and how necessary that frequency is. But I do realize the grand plan God has for my life is not limited to me falling before Him every two seconds. Rather, He wants to root me in that attitude o' servitude so that all the work of my hands and all of my toil won't be in vain. All that *I've* done should wind up at His feet (along with me) every day. Although, as you may have assumed, Geraud wouldn't accept "I don't know" as an answer. He pushed and prodded a bit, even throwing out suggestions--one of which was teaching. I told him that I'd had several people in my life trying to convince me to become a 5th or 6th grade math teacher, but that I also didn't know if that's necessarily where God wanted me to be. His response to this actually did throw me off a bit. He suggested that since so many people were telling me this, perhaps it was time for me to hear God speaking through these people. Perhaps. Perhaps I shouldn't wait for fireworks to shoot out of my ears upon the eventual utterance of the *right* career for me. Ever since the camp experience, my mother will occasionally throw out the idea of me becoming a missionary because of how well that *fits*. Now, I can't know whether she's just a wee bit jealous that one of her sister's daughters is down in Mexico teaching deaf kids about Jesus or if this is something she prays about for me and is, as I am, listening for an answer from God. Either way, I know that my future does not lie simply in the respective wills of my beloved family and friends, but I do know that God put 'em all up in my business for a reason. Which brings me to the sermon preached by Pastor Van Loomis at Redeeming Grace Baptist Church this past Sunday. He's been doing a series called "What is a Disciple?" At the end of this particular sermon, he said, "Alright, I don't know if I really have time for this, but I feel like it's important to take you to 2 Corinthians 11:16-33 as we close..." This is where Paul talks about his sufferings as an apostle: "Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one--I am talking like a madman--with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness." -v. 23-30 There have been few times in my life when a sermon has really pulled and contorted my mind and heart at the same time, leaving me feeling a bit like mush in my seat once the Benediction has been offered up. But this was one of them, and all I could think was "Canada" ...Canada? ...I don't know, but I do trust in the providence of God.

The World Needs Clones of Rebecca Ellen Jones

Yesterday was the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break, and like any day before break, I almost felt like every element of my day was telling me to simply skip my classes in order to soak in the surrounding joy and excitement of a looming holiday. Normally I do succumb to these pleasant little "whispers" and take the time to spend that extra hour or so with a friend or even just with myself. Amid it all, I am spending some legitimate time with God. See, it's days like yesterday that bring me perspective. Life looks better. Pursuits look purposeful. God seems bigger. Friends seem closer. Love is inevitable, and home is the perfect destination. Though not before I decided NOT to skip that Hebrew Bible class only to find out we had a paper due that I was *somehow* totally unaware of. Whoops. (It turned out alright. I rushed back to my apartment and churned out a decent paper in 30 minutes, turning it in right at the end of class. Probably not the best in show, but hey, it exists.) I did, however, wind up skipping my 3:30 class to take my friend Katie Titus to the train station, as she was en route home to Long Island at 3:20 or thereabouts. We had a lovely chat before her departure, and one question she asked in particular still stands out to me: "What are you looking forward to most about going home?" It didn't take me more than 2 seconds to say, "Rebecca." That is, Rebecca Jones my beloved 16-months-older sister. And I'm not gonna lie, my expectation to absolutely love being with her has yet to let me down. Even just sitting next to her right now as I am blogging and she's watching NCIS, I can't think of anything much more comforting to me than her mere presence. She's always been the calm to my crazy and added the punchlines to my jokes. Her essence complements mine so beautifully. Perhaps you're thinking: Well, yeah, you're sisters. But I don't think such a phenomenon can be reasoned so simplistically. This is the work of God. This is God knowing how much I have needed her in my life from the moment I was born. I spent the greater part of my childhood taking advantage of (I was good at taking advantage of stuff) her generosity and her love. It was probably during my latter formative years when I finally recognized how necessary it was to not only reap the benefits of these beautiful qualities of hers but to also let them penetrate my very being. I can with all honesty say that any amount of kindness one might attribute to my personality is only present because of how much I emulated it in my sister and wanted to follow her lead. My big sister, and my inevitable role model. No, she does not fit a stereotypical role model mold. She's never been in the cool crowd, and she doesn't stand out in a crowd. But she's the coolest person I know, and I would seek her first out of any crowd. I know I still take advantage of her sometimes, but I earnestly pray that my perspective can stay true, that my hugs will envelope her in the knowledge that I love her for all that she's ever been for me. My sister. My role model. My best friend. My listening ear. My encouragement. My calm. Thanks be to God for such an incredible gift that I received before my own conception. He really is so Good like that.

Psalm 111

¹Praise the LORD! I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart, in the company of the upright, in the congregation. ²Great are the works of the LORD, studied by all who delight in them. ³Full of splendor and majesty is his work, and his righteousness endures forever. ⁴He has caused his wondrous works to be remembered; the LORD is gracious and merciful. ⁵He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever. ⁶He has shown his people the power of his works, in giving them the inheritance of the nations. ⁷The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy; ⁸they are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness. ⁹He sent redemption to his people; he has commanded his covenant forever. Holy and awesome is his name! ¹⁰The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! If you read my previous post, you may or may not be assuming that my father preached on this passage from Psalms today. Of course I couldn't just announce he was preaching and leave you hanging on the message. Please. Disclaimer: This is my interpretation of my dad's sermon. I didn't take any notes (a-cuz I don't do notes), so keep in mind that I really cannot do his words justice. I'll just start with my favorite dad joke from the sermon: "I haven't always been the social giant you see standing before you today." (my dad is a hermit) He opened with an anecdote about having taken a biology course back in the day during which he simply learned biology through a textbook without the aid of hands-on lessons, such as dissections. He compared this to a biology course he took later at college during which he got to dissect all kinds o' crazy stuffs. He absolutely loved being able to dig in and see and be part of the lesson he was learning. This is much like our appreciation of God's works. We have to wonder how much we're getting out of God's Word, and on an even broader spectrum, this world, unless we're actually cutting it open and pulling out the organs for closer examination. Dad also likened this to the improvements to speech made by a thesaurus. Remember in 5th grade when you'd write stories and everything was either "bad" or "good" (i.e. "The bad kid took the test and he did a bad job on it.")? The teacher would return the paper with suggestions to use words other than "bad" in order to enhance the story. Get a thesaurus, kid. Thesaurus is, quite literally in Latin, "treasure," which parallels the treasury that is the Bible in that the Bible enhances our story. Sounds corny when I write it, but I promise it was much more eloquent and poignant coming out of my father's mouth. My dad even went on to make a solid point for those of us who are students wondering, "Why am I even taking this pointless algebra test?" Because the knowledge required to pass that test is a part of God's magnificent creation. He made this world interesting and worth trying to understand. "Great are the works of the world, studied by all who delight in them (v.2)." Of course, there was more to the sermon, but I give you these snippets to say that this is what I know I need to work toward. It's easy to simply say, "Praise the Lord!" from the mouth. But really, it's just as easy to say, "I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart," because He reveals Himself in every facet of existence. I don't mean to bring up thankfulness just because it is a season of thanksgiving (though that's not a bad reason to do so). I bring it up because it's what I haven't had for the longest time. I've wallowed in my doubts, and I've been diving in the deep end of a depression pool. It's just about time to bring my head above it all and breathe in God. I know He's there. He's everywhere. "He has shown his people the power of his works," and "the works of his hands are faithful and just."

On a lighter note...

My daddy is preaching at my home church tomorrow. Yes, that dad - the one in the sombrero. This means I will be waking up early, departing from Fredericksburg at 7:30 with my dear friend Katie Matusik in tow, and arriving at Redeeming Grace Baptist Church by 9:30 to attend the Women's Sunday School class at my church led by my grandmother. I just thought now would be a great time to remind myself how blessed I am to have a family that loves me, friends who love me, and most of all, a God who loves me. And no, it's not hard to see how huge these blessings are. I just found an unexpected voicemail on my phone from a friend checking up on me and letting me know how much she loves me. Before that, I got invited by another friend to have a snuggle date tonight. I have a mother who will go to any end to try and bring joy back into my life. I have sisters who crack me up and miss me when we're apart. Despite my mind and despite the depressing blog posts, I have these things, and I know I don't deserve them. But I am so beyond thankful for all of it. And there's still this guy: This is the man I call when I really don't know what else to do with myself. He offers me perspective when I've lost it and answers when I need them and encouragement when I feel empty. Unfortunately, I can't remember the last time I've really thanked him for this, but I figure tomorrow morning is as good a time as any for that. Cuz my daddy's preaching tomorrow!!! :D

Alone

I don't like being alone. When spanking became an ineffective punishment for me when I was little, my mother simply started isolating me for long periods of time for punishment. It killed me. Whenever my sisters decided it was a great day for ignoring me and I was left to myself, it killed me. But then sometimes company doesn't do it for me either. And even sometimes company is too much. Sometimes I want it all but none of it at all. Sometimes I drive myself crazy, especially when I am alone. I don't like being alone. This is when my mind starts going full-force onto... well, everything. My relationships, my schoolwork, my laziness. Objects of focus become increasingly negative. I am not doing this right. How does that person really perceive how I treat them? I am such a jerk. I don't know how to defeat that. Should I defeat that? Oh, I should probably be concerned about where God is in my life. Is He there? God, are You there? Yeah, you are, but am I there? Probably not. I'm not sure how to fix that. Maybe I should read the Bible and pray -- the two answers to everything. Maybe I should stop thinking so much. I don't know how to do that either. I don't know. I don't know. But I want to. But I want to. I want it all. But I don't. Which really means I have no idea what I want. Which really explains a lot about me, myself, and I. I can't quite pinpoint problems. And so, I can't beautifully wrap resolutions to problems. Optimism takes a conceded effort. Hope is contrived. Love appears to be lost. Peace is in the other camp. Joy has deflated. Patience won't cut it. God, I don't know how to know that you're enough. And I'm not going to pretend like I do. I'm not going to throw vacant words of possibility in random directions in hopes that they're really coming from my core. Maybe this is depression talking. Maybe I shouldn't resign myself to this. But I really just don't know. And really. This is me.

An Adequate Title

I want to glorify myself. So. Bad. I'm trying to fit God into my picture, and what's worse is that I realize I am doing this. I really do. I'm taking a Hebrew Bible class this semester, and my professor's basic intent behind his teaching is to get us to look at the Hebrew Bible in a purely historical manner. This means we can't assume that the stories being told are true but are rather representations of the actual cultures from which they came or for which they are about. Basically, he boils it all down to the Hebrew Bible being a tool for faith -- a faith that was constructed by the Jews and is projected onto what we Christians now know of as the Old Testament. Yeah, I don't quite get it either. And I'm slowly coming to realize it really doesn't work. There was a time when I wanted to believe these things about the Bible. I thought it'd be fine to step back and say I simply can't know whether this Bible is factual or not, but that I can still have faith in God the way that these characters had faith. Is it necessary for me to say here that I was rather atrociously wrong? Turning the Bible into a bunch of moral fairy tales will not conjure the longing for God, and more specifically for Christ, that these self-affirming Scriptures demand that I have. My dad has loaned me a book called All Truth is God's Truth by Arthur F. Holmes. It's a bit too pedantic for my ignorant mind, but I've pulled a lot out of it as far as understanding how God's reasoning really can't be matched. "The relation between faith and reason should be understood accordingly as the relation of the whole person, with his most basic and inclusive commitment, to his intellectual activities. It is a whole-to-part relation, rather than part-to-part. Reason properly operates under the motivation of faith, with the purposefulness of faith, with the integrity of humility and teachableness of faith, and its path is illuminated by knowing what it is the person so heartily believes. 'By faith we understand that the world was created...' (Heb. 11:3) does not mean that faith is itself either a source of knowledge or a substitute for knowing, but that the whole person's faith in God includes an understanding that God is the creator and that this affords the starting point for further thought. Faith gives perspective to reason, but it has no royal road to learning that can bypass difficult questions and hard thinking. The Christian believer knows God to be the ultimate source of all truth. In principle, all truth is God's truth. But the working out of this principle in regard to all the arts and sciences as well as theology is a job that reason itself must do." There is no way for me to succeed in even trying to understand this amazing world without a greater desire for trying to understand God, who I am told I can never fully understand. But doesn't that make Him all the more worthwhile? "But when the archangel Michael, contending with the devil, was disputing about the body of Moses, he did not presume to pronounce a blasphemous judgment, but said, 'The Lord rebuke you.' (Jude v. 9)" Even the archangel Michael knew he couldn't speak out of his own reasoning and judgments. What he knows is what God reveals to him, and that is where he draws his reasoning... without plagiarism, at that. This pride in my own abilities and reasoning is continually tripping me up. The more I feel like I am not only recognizing it but also coming out of it, the more I see how so many facets of my existence are clinging to... me. I know that I have not been seeking a relationship with God. I really don't know when I ever have, and while that scares me, it also gives me hope. I can at least know that there is more -- that there is a God who truly loves me, not me going to church, not me putting on a happy face for my friends and family, not me attending BCM activities. All I know is the John 3:16 business. The business that says God loves me. Not only that, but God gave me the ability to love in a way specific to me. He wants me to love Him and love others in the ways by which he has given me the ability and even the desire to do so.

(Un)belief

"If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations -- 'Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch' (referring to things that all perish as they are used) -- according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh. "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory." -Colossians 2:20-3:4 It's funny how I allow myself to drown in questions and confusion when the revelations I seek have already been given to me in the Bible. Every time. Without fail. Mama Jo's been telling me not to discredit the Bible since it is so beautifully and perfectly compiled, lacking in nothing, abounding in truth. Some may call this closed-minded. Sometimes that's me, but I am continually knocked off my high horse only to realize God has been there all along. In the Scriptures. Where He says He is. It's almost like playing hide and seek and ignoring the loud rustling in the bush. "O foolish [Katie]! Who has bewitched you? ...Let me ask you only this: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?" -Galatians 3:1-3 What do I say to that? "Let me [request] only this:" "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief! (Mark 9:24)" (And I'm also learning God is not confined in the Bible as well, btw. Perhaps more to come on that front.)

Hallowed Hollow

In Zach Braff's film Garden State, Natalie Portman's character accuses Zach's character of being "in it" when she sees his face contorted in such a way that would suggest he was in a deep contemplative state. A couple of weeks ago I laid on a friend's bed, lost in thought, and was brought back by my friend's words: "You're in it right now." And by right now, she meant for the last several days... weeks... months. Good grief, I've been in it like mad. Meaning I have not been here. I've been within myself, feeding into my own revolutionary thoughts. I would liken the situation to Rasputin in the animated version of Anastasia when his head pops down into his hollow body. That was me. Hollow. A Body. Head trapped. Within this hollow body, I decided to create new organs of doubt, despair, hopelessness, irritation, frustration, and hatred. (Sorry this is sounding so Pilgrim's Progress (dang, lots of references).) It was fun and exciting at first. You know, before the organs were completely created. Before they could actually function within my body. I got to forget about who I once called Creator. I was the creator. I thought I could dethrone God in my life by suggesting He wasn't who this or that guy said He was. Nobody could get it right. Not a single person could really define God. So, God became an obscurity. He simply became Truth. He was fuzzy and unattainable. He existed alright, but He didn't seem to have an agenda. Not in my life at least. And all the while, in the process of dethroning and trying to create anew, I spun around in circles. My materials were limited. I had to take that piece from this thing and put it over there instead. Oh no, that doesn't look right either. Let me put it over here on this thing. Dang, that's not right either. Oh well, I'll try again later. Try and try as I might, I finally hit that inevitable brick wall. I was tired of spinning in circles. My mind was mush. My head was full of the most sincere form of nothing. It was gross. Just plain gross. And so I fessed up. Not to God but to my parents. Here's a snippet: "Sometimes I just feel trapped. I am always convinced that there is Truth, and I never doubt that, but I often doubt any sort of ability to really understand what it is and how it applies to us. I like to stress the importance of the big picture, but that doesn't help me but so much in the here and now. The only times I get any peace about this are when I suppress these thoughts and go on with the normal Christian life pattern, which is what I did when I came back to school... but then I got frustrated with the pattern again. It's gross to see life as cyclical because that feels like entrapment." Both of my parents responded, but what left the biggest impression in me was something my dad suggested: "If I hear you right, you are saying that even if you believe that the Christian faith is true, what difference does it make? It is hard to transfer that belief into practice with a passion that makes life worth living. I would ask you to read Romans 12:1-5 carefully for I believe that Paul takes that problem head on. We cannot be spiritually inert, we are going to move in some direction at the prompting of our own hearts and desires. That is the beauty and power of the transformed mind in that God actively does for our minds and hearts what we cannot rise above ourselves to do." Following his suggestion, I opened my Bible to the familiar passage, Romans 12:1-5: "I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." After some ridiculously feeble attempts at dabbling with power and control over my life, I really have nowhere to turn but to God. I've known this was coming all along, but I didn't want to go there. I still kinda don't want to because it's scary. Fear God? Yeah, I fear God. Why? Because I am coming out of an experience that has shown me an extent of God's power and supremacy that I never really could fathom before. And to think that even this is a limited view? Man. Get me out. But don't. Because I need it. I need God. I can't care whether I want it anymore. I am hollow. All I can create are distortions and lies. Just a little bit before Romans 12, Romans 11:33-36 reads: "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! 'For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?' For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen." And that says it all. That says it all about God at least. What does it say about me? Romans 12 calls me to be a living sacrifice to God. This is my spiritual worship, Paul says. I am not supposed to dwell here in this world, in my hollow mind. I am supposed to let God dwell. God fills up the hollow, "for from him and through him and to him are all things." I am from God. I am through God. I am to God. That's where I belong. BRB. Repenting. "From Depths of Woe" Words by Martin Luther From depths of woe I raise to Thee The voice of lamentation; Lord, turn a gracious ear to me And hear my supplication; If Thou iniquities dost mark, Our secret sins and misdeeds dark, O who shall stand before Thee? To wash away the crimson stain, Grace, grace alone availeth; Our works, alas! are all in vain; In much the best life faileth: No man can glory in Thy sight, All must alike confess Thy might, And live alone by mercy. Therefore my trust is in the Lord, And not in mine own merit; On Him my soul shall rest, His Word Upholds my fainting spirit: His promised mercy is my fort, My comfort, and my sweet support; I wait for it with patience. What though I wait the livelong night, And till the dawn appeareth, My heart still trusteth in His might; It doubteth not nor feareth: Do thus, O ye of Israel's seed, Ye of the Spirit born indeed; And wait till God appeareth. Though great our sins and sore our woes, His grace much more aboundeth; His helping love no limit knows, Our utmost need it soundeth. Our Shepherd good and true is He, Who will at last His Israel free. From all their sin and sorrow.

Today I Experienced

Quite An Exchange. I gave blood today in return for a how-to-choose-your-career formula. As Michael was draining the life out of me, he asked me what my major is. -Math. -What do you plan on doing after college? -I don't know. -You don't know? Have you tried to figure that out? -Not really, but I figure I'll know when I need to know. -That's no way to go about it. -Well, what do you suggest? -Well in order to get the answers you want, you have to ask the right questions. See, the smartest man is not the one who knows the answer but the one who asks the right question. -I see... so what is the right question? -Well to start off, you have to ask yourself: "Who am I?" -Can you ever really know who you are? I mean, all that self-actualization business and always learning new things about yourself stuff kinda makes it seem like you can't ever really know. -Yeah, but it all boils down to that one something that defines who you are. -Yeah, that's not obscure at all... -It's not. -Hm, okay. -The second question you should ask yourself is: "What can I do?" -That makes sense. -Yes, and you can't let your friends or money or anything like that lead you to your decision. You have to make the decision for yourself. For who you are and what you can do. If anything, this conversation let me know I do need to pull myself back into the here and now and keep my head from getting too clouded by the "what-if"s of life and God and stuff. I think there's a time for both. Right now I'm cloudy, but there's usually clear sky ahead.

Oh... Faith.

Ah, I finally had a mind dump Tuesday evening, which was great since my mind had been constipated since I got back to school (my apologies for the fecal analogy). Though I am now two days removed from the evening, I'm still on a bit of a high from the weight that was finally lifted... or the clarity that was finally wrought. I'd love to go into it here, but I found that as I tried to tell a friend this morning how great it was to finally talk to a like-minded friend about what's been weighing me down lately, I found I really could not relay any of the thoughts or conversation to her. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, see this post. I basically hit the point where I had to ask what on earth (or not on earth) I truly believed. Not only believed, but had faith in. I had to wonder why I went home for the summer and simply could not continue on in faith as I had at school. Truth is, I'm wrong. You're wrong. That guy over there -- yeah, he's wrong, too. But what is right? What is true? What is faith? Where is faith? Why is faith? These are the questions that have allowed the weeds of apathy to spread across not only my heart but even my mind. What's the point? I'd ask. Over and over. I'd cry. Over and over. God is and was always there, but God was so limited. He was trapped inside a book that I didn't want to read. It was Tuesday evening's revelation-laden conversations that brought me to finally say, "No, God is in those places that I've been lead to believe He isn't." This is hard to explain because it sounds so fundamental, but honestly, this has not been a simple revelation. Our churches' rules, opinions, and various other constructs have limited God too much. For me, at least. What I was hearing was: "God is for me, and He is for you, too! ...as long as you believe this, that, and the other thing." That is the mindset I am shedding, and it has allowed me to see God like I've never seen God before. "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." -Hebrews 11:1 What are you hoping for? I am hoping for God's authority, not only over my piddly revelations and moments of angst, but over anything that ever hinders anyone from a true faith. I'm hoping for hope.

"Oh My God" by Jars of Clay Oh my God, look around this place, Your fingers reach around the bone, you set the break and set the tone For flights of grace, and future falls In present pain all fools say, "Oh my God." Oh my God, why are we so afraid? we make it worse when we don't bleed, there is no cure for our disease. Turn a phrase and rise again, or fake your death and only tell your closest friends, Oh My God. Oh my God, can I complain? You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief. Weddings, boats, and alibis, All drift away, and a mother cries... Liars and fools, sons and failures, theives will always say.. Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say.. Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say.. Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say.. War creators, racial haters, preachers always say.. Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say.. Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say.. Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say.. Sometimes I can not forgive and these days mercy cuts so deep, If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep. While I lay, I'd dream we're better, scales were gone and faces lighter, When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other, Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent, Falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent? We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder. We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder. Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven, All the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up. Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them. All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals, All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance, All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God

Leo

I am home for fall break, and I now feel like I can finally fully dwell on one truly amazing recent event that I don't think I've entirely processed. Even when I was still at school, I frequently found my mind wandering off to this one precious occurrence from September 18, 2009:

My beautiful nephew Leonardo Spencer Martin was born, and he is pictured above with his beautiful mother (who also happens to be my beautiful sister) as they are both getting acclimated to this whole breastfeeding business. I figured it would be weird to see my sister with a baby. Well, her baby, more specifically. Even as I was driving the 9 or so hours to get to Chattanooga, TN, from Fredericksburg, VA, I could not really fathom the reality of the situation -- that I was about to meet my nephew/my sister's son/my parents' grandson. My other older sister and I arrived pretty much immediately after Leo was born, so we had to wait about half an hour to go into the delivery room. Still, it wasn't real. I knew it would be. I knew I would see that baby boy and it would smack me in the face. But when I entered the room, I only saw my sister. She was holding Leo, yes, but I could not tear my eyes away from my sister to take in the awesome vision of her newborn son. It's like in 27 Dresses when Katherine Heigl's character says she always looks at the groom when the bride is coming down the aisle, because his face says it all. Well, my sister's face said it all. Her eyes were completely puffy from crying, and her entire expression was soft with what one could not label anything but pure love. This woman was not the sister I knew. She was not the sister who would ignore me when we were kids because I was annoying. Or the sister who punched me in the stomach. Or the sister who graduated high school early so she could finally get out on her own, away from her family. Or the sister who took pride in emotional detachment for the likes of logical reasoning. No, this was a woman who had just cried hysterically for an entire half hour because she yearned to hold her child. This was a woman who discovered a level of love she never knew was attainable. This was a woman humbled, awestruck, selfless. Puffy eyes, red cheeks and all, I'd never seen anything more beautiful. Until I saw this: Talk about precious moments, folks. God dished out a huge one when He brought Leo into this world.

Lottery Tickets and/= Scientology

At last, I was rescued from my two-day stationary stint since surgery. A friend of mine randomly stopped by my house earlier right as I was about to head to an appointment with my optometrist. As I was stuffing my crutches into the backseat of my sister's car, Amanda pulled into my driveway with her mom and hobbled out of her car to hand me some Reese's and lottery tickets (I won $15 :D) she had just picked up from a gas station down the road. These are "get well" gifts if ever I've received any. Oh and yes, I did say she hobbled. She broke her foot two weeks ago trying to do some complex ballet move... after never having done any other ballet moves in her life before. Yeah, she just does stuff like that.... anyway, she took me to her house after my appointment since I'm past the 48 hours of elevation and ice. After sitting through a delicious dinner seasoned with awkward dinner conversation innuendos, we decided to watch a documentary on Scientology she had just picked up from the library. Which left me more confused about Scientology than I was before watching the DVD. The whole time some narrator guy would kinda sorta explain something... kindasorta, and then he'd go straight into some "Read L. Ron Hubbard's book Scientology: A New Slant on Life" plug. I thought this documentary was supposed to be made for people like me who do not want to read such books (or really, books in general), so I'm not sure I'll ever really know what Scientology is. I guess I can watch that Oprah episode where Tom Cruise jumps all over a couch and electrocutes her to further my education. Eh, whatever. In other news, I'm tired. This is me stopping to go to bed.

joyknees

I woke up at 5:00 a.m. This would be a bit more upsetting if I didn't know that I'm about to be knocked out by anesthetics in about five hours anyway. My last "surgery" was getting my wisdom teeth removed when I was 14-years-old. Consequences of "surgery"? I got sick -- threw up constantly, dry sockets, *and* an infection for kicks and giggles. My mouth tasted like sewage for about two weeks. So I feel like things can only go up from there? No really, I'm not worried about the knee surgery. When I finally got my knee checked out here at home and was told I have a torn medial meniscus and a torn ACL I was given my surgical options, as well as non-surgical options like, well, keep strengthening it to make it *better* but it will never reach full stability again. Um, no thanks? I'll take the surgery plz. Kthx. I'm getting an arthroscopy, which is the less invasive option, but my orthopedic surgeon did tell me that the extent of the tear on my ACL may call for a replacement. The arthroscopy will at least allow him to determine whether this is necessary. Obviously, I hope this is not the case, but given the crazy that has been my body over the past year, it wouldn't come as a shock. I don't mean to sound cynical about the whole thing. I realize I have a lot to be thankful for not only physically but mentally, spiritually, and other -allys. Plus, I have lived with a severely disabled younger sister for almost 19 years. Can't I be grateful that I don't have to live with my parents forever like she does, that I don't have to put my other sisters into the position of taking care of me if those parents die before me, that I can communicate my thoughts, that I can simply follow the "normal" pattern of life? Yes, I can be, and that gratefulness within me is renewed each time I look at my baby sister and she flashes me that ever-present grin. Despite her limitations, this girl has joy like I've not seen in most people. So what of physical health? What of mental health? We can patch up all the bodies we want. Heck, we can "improve" as many bodies as we want through plastic surgery, but the real and lasting, comforting joy we yearn for can only be found in God. And we don't find comfort for comfort's sake. Comfort enters in as an inevitable consequence of pursuing the one true God. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." -Hebrews 12:1-3

I don't know anything either.

As I've mentioned before, I worked at a Christian adventure camp in the summer of 2008. I met a lot of fantastic people, including my friend Tim Milligan, and he once introduced me to his blog. One post I read of his has really stuck with me, and it has resurfaced in my mind in light of recent events in my life. If you're interested (which you should be) in what I'm referring to, please read his post. So yeah, I'm inclined to follow the conclusion that I don't know anything. And that is probably one of the most important things to know... as long as you do know that there is One who knows everything.

Sing it, Bowie.

Wow, I can't believe it's only been four days since I posted "Doubting Thomas?" This whole blogging thing really does put a new perspective on time. I'm pretty excited about time right now, though. This is because this time right now is a good time. Switching schools has had its ups and downs, but whenever I reflect on what's going on in my life overall in the big picture, I can't help but smile. Despite the pre-orientation mess I'm having to motivate myself to get through and the scheduling of CPR training and physicals and blah blah... and the impending surgery... and officially moving away from home... and actually having to rely on my own income, despite how much everything is changing, it is all so right. And I am finally convinced that this is because God is right there where He says He is: with me, in me, through me, to me. And really, this makes so much sense to me. I suppose posting a spiel about what I retrospectively think about the most intense parts of my doubting would make sense in filling up this post, but I feel like those sentiments will slip their way in when necessary. I've done enough dwelling for now. I do thank those of you who read my thoughts and shared your own, though. :) Oh and if you don't know, the switching schools thing I'm referring to is me leaving the University of Mary Washington and going to Riverside School of Health Careers to complete their 11-month Surgical Technology program. I found out yesterday that I don't have to wear one of those incredibly dorky uniforms the nurses and radiologic tech people have to wear. Since I'm gonna be a scrub, I get to just wear the hospital's scrubs when I'm shadowing. Sweeeeet. I really can't get over how incredibly awesome this program, and ultimately this job, seems to be. I almost feel like I'm setting myself up for disappointment by being this excited. I keep researching it as if I can possibly find anything else about the profession that I haven't already found, thinking I'll find something that finally points out a huge flaw in this perfect career choice. I know I'll start getting a sense of the reality of the job once I start my classes and start shadowing, so I guess I'll just exhibit a bit more patience and keep taking this whole thing one step at a time. My sister and I are trying to move to Newport News (where the school is) so that I don't have to commute an hour to Newport News everyday. Rebecca, my sister, just graduated from Liberty University, and she's been looking for jobs over there since before I made this career choice. She's got herself hooked up with an employment agency, so things are looking promising. We checked out a duplex on Mercury Blvd the other day. It is very reasonably priced and the pros definitely outweigh the cons. The thing is we can't really commit until Rebecca lands a job, so we've just been praying about that and trusting that we'll end up where we're supposed to. Oh, and if you happen to know anyone who lives in or near Newport News and desperately wants to temporarily house two young low-maintenance women starting in September, just let me know.

Apple??? It's good!!!

During a conversation I had with a friend yesterday over lunch, my friend told me about his former roommate's belief that nothing really exists. According to roommate, all "reality" is simply perceived... he went into weird stuff about photons bouncing off stuff, but my friend told him that photons have to bounce off something real and tangible. Honestly, it was all too weird and twisted for me to fully understand and relay here to this blog, but what I'm getting at is something I knew but needed to address directly: You can believe whatever you want. I've heard from more than one of my non-Christian friends that religion is a construct for coping and nothing more. Now, I agree with this statement. Coping has negative connotations, but all it really means is dealing with a situation to bring about success (whatever that is). So, to me, saying that religion is a coping mechanism is kind of a moot point. Life is coping. Once you start throwing subjective terms around, the foundation of the argument turns to sand and no real point is being made. So yeah, you can believe whatever you want or believe in not believing, as some like to pretend is a possibility. As my last post pretty well portrays, I've been struggling with belief. But what gets me is that belief is real. The fact that we actually *can* believe. Nuts. This is just a small part of what has me pretty well convinced that God exists. According to C.S. Lewis, I at least have "Faith A" down, meaning I believe in the existence of a god. "Faith B," having faith in the God of the Bible -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -- is where more people have hangups. No, I can't construct a perfect logical argument for Faith B like I so desire, but I've not been so bothered by my lack of flawless argument for Faith A. Clearly, you can't argue faith. Duh. I'm just saying I don't understand why I let that bother me in one case of faith and not in another. I've built up a lot of mostly lame excuses for trying to abandon the God I've been worshiping for so long, but I think I'm finally running out of steam. This (of course) brings me back to Ecclesiastes: "What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun." -Eccl. 1:9 These thoughts and doubts I've been having are not new. People have been doubting forever, and I'm sure many, like me, have run out of steam. All the reasons I make up for not finding belief in God necessary crumble, including the reasons that revolve solely around my own "success." I don't know how much longer I'm going to let Satan dangle this tempting yet unreachable fruit in front of my face, but I'm exhausted from running after it. Not to mention, I am completely lacking nourishment as a result. And again, thank God, there's no conclusion. Just a continuation.

Doubting Thomas?

So. It's really weird to look back on my Ecclesiastes blog and then read some of the things I've been writing recently (obviously, these recent things are not on my blog). I've been going through a bit of a spiritual detox that I have a lot of trouble articulating to anyone, including myself. Plus, I'm terrified to articulate these thoughts because they're not exactly Biblically-sound. I've been reading An Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University by Kevin Roose. The book is about Kevin, an undergrad student at Brown University, attending Liberty University for one semester as a sort of "study abroad" experience. He was raised a Quaker pacifist, so what brought him to Liberty was intellectual intrigue... and he is an aspiring journalist, so he made his experience into a sort of anthropological ethnographic endeavor. As an undercover Christian, he discovers a lot of interesting things about evangelical Christians and also, inevitably, about himself. I'm about 3/4 of the way through the book, so I'm not sure where Kevin ends up spiritually. He touches on a lot of things about Christians that have been baffling me as well. I'll pull a snippet from my recent journaling that gives a bit of an overall picture to the state of my soul: "I figure if this Christian God is real and he loves me and his love can never let me go as Paul says in Romans, then so be it. I’m in no real danger, right? “No power of hell, no scheme of man can ever pluck me from His hand.” So really, I have nothing to lose being where I am, and this does bring me some solace in the midst of my inner turmoil. Eh, it’s not really turmoil. I’m just being dramatic at this point. 21 is definitely the age for identity crisis and confusion, so I’m just following the typical life strokes I suppose. In any case, it’s been an enlightening experience, and I don’t see an end to it all just yet. Perhaps an ending isn’t what I’m looking for." I've confided a lot in a couple of people and a little bit in one or two others. One of the things that stood out in Roose's book was when he discussed a debate that went on between one of Liberty's professors and a group of atheists. The atheists basically destroyed the Liberty professor in the debate, and Roose noticed it shook some of the students' faith. He almost expected the whole student body to slowly drop this whole God thing, but when everything seemed to be rolling along back to normal very soon after the debate he figured it could have something to do with the inconvenience of dropping out of faith in God. And I believe he's right about that. I've definitely thought about repercussions that could result from my period of weakened faith, and for the most part it terrifies me. I was kinda born into the mindset I've possessed for the first 20 years of my life. Thinking about going back to UMW with my thoughts had my stomach in knots. I've integrated myself so much into the Christian community, and while I know my friends wouldn't abandon me because of where I stand spiritually I would still be suffering a serious disconnect with all of them now that my relationships wouldn't be so strongly "built on Christ's love." I was thinking about leaving UMW for health school before my questioning even began in order to follow the dreams I had before coming to college. While my fear didn't have anything to do with my decision to transfer out of UMW, I have to admit it's a huge relief not to have to face a lot of discomfort I may have been heading toward. That isn't to say I won't miss my friends intensely, because I definitely will. I plan on continuing to build the relationships I've developed. And so there's really no conclusion to all of this rambling. I haven't dismissed the Christian God as improbable, and I haven't dismissed the general notion of God whatsoever. I told one Christian friend this: "I've gone through and am still going through a lot of pretty serious doubting, but I have a hard time really explaining it. It's not so much of an abandoning my faith sort of doubting as it is a stripping my faith to its raw core sort of doubting." And I still stand by that assessment. Uh, inconclusive conclusion, but I should stop myself before I head toward another invisible resolution.

My, how the mighty have fallen...

I've been wrestling with the idea of picking back up on regular blogging. At the moment, I'm thinking I'll just write this and let things go as they may. I blogged in high school, and that blog still resides somewhere in the depths of the internets. So anyway, I've been thinking lately about how people long to time travel back to the sweet sweet days of childhood. I assume the common purpose for such a longing is to be free of obligations, stress, what-have-you -- basically some obscure idea of freedom. I can understand this longing, but my longing for the past is a bit different and only serves to make me feel even older. What I want is to be effortlessly healthy again. I remember skipping into doctors' offices, playing with toys while mother happily checked the "No" option next to all of the "Do you have tuberculosis?"-like questions. I'd go through a check-up and everything would be just fine. I was free to go back home and run around outside. Those were some good days, but my-oh-my how the mighty have fallen. Exactly a year ago, I was training to be a wilderness counselor at an adventure camp. I got to do all but swing through trees. It was amazing. Each day of training was a new adventure: jumping off a platform 30 feet off the ground, caving, white water rafting, team-building activities, etc. Of course it couldn't continue to be so perfect, so at the staff party night, I was playing basketball with a bunch of guys and one of the guys jacked up my right knee. I'd never had any sort of knee problem in the past, so I didn't think much of it. I iced it and hobbled around until bedtime. Waking up the next morning, I moved my legs to step out of bed only to feel a seering pain in my right knee. I couldn't bend it. At all. And it was really really swollen. And so to keep this story short and not too tragic, I'll just say this knee injury put some constraints on my experience as a wilderness counselor but I stuck it out and still had an amazing summer. After plenty of physical therapy, I figured I was getting close to being as good as new. However, winter break brought it's own bit of debilitating sorrow. I started having back problems caused by the knee injury and had to get some more physical therapy, which helped and I started feeling better. And then spring break came with another foul blow to my once spry form. My left knee somehow (I really do not know how) gave out the same way the right knee had given out before while I was playing basketball on a mission trip. Fantastic. Really. I decided to do my own self-prescribed physical therapy for this one and have been doing alright thus far. So that would be the end of my body-breaking woes, but just a few nights ago after watching two wonderful hours of Bones on TNT I got some pains in the right and left sides of my abdomen. Slowly the pain concentrated more on my lower right side and got much stronger within the hour -- so strong I started to writhe on the floor, crying uncontrollably. This was when mother decided to call the doctor and 20 minutes later, I was throwing up and still writhing in pain in the ER waiting room. Ridiculous, I know, but that is what happened. It took forever for any painkillers to get into my system, but after some tests and scans and what-not, I was out of there with four prescriptions to fill. It was 3:00 am. They told me my kidney was infected but my regular doctor thinks my kidney is not infected, but instead I have a kidney stone I've yet to pass. I'm seeing her tomorrow. And then I'll be seeing a urologist soon. And then an orthopedist. So where are my sweet youthful days? I'd say they're a year in my past at this point. June 6th was the anniversary of my right knee injury. I'm not so much bitter as I am humbled as to how fragile my existence in this world really is. It's pretty obvious that our bodies fail us at some point, so I'm looking forward to my new 100% knee-injury-proof, infection-proof, back-pain-proof body to come.